She Can't Know
by FallenStarof96
Summary: Hermione can never know how Draco really feels, but will almost losing her change this. Will he drop to stoic facade and finally let her in. (currently a one-shot, but I might write some more for it)
1. She Can't Know

She just can't know, she can't find out, just how much she means to me. I always hate myself, just a little bit more, each time I see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. What I wouldn't do to make it official, to make the taboo, that I'd been raised to believe whole-heartedly, disappear forever. To take back all of the harsh words I'd ever spoken, to her and to any muggle born.

But their relationship could never see the light of day. They'd have to settle for stolen kisses in abandoned corridors, whispered confessions in the dead of night, and nights of sweet pleasure followed by one of them sneaking out before the first rays of light. But oh how he wished he could change all of that. To be able to hold her hand and walk together to class, or to tell her he loved her, in front of everyone or even in private, or to be able to hold her in his arms all night long.

A sad, wistful look came over his face as he looked down at her sleeping form. This was one of his worst fears. And it had come true in an unexpected way. He was a death eater's son, next in line to join Lord Voldemort's army of purebloods, no matter which way the war, the war that was only inevitable, went they would never be together. If Potter and the order won than his family would be locked up in Azkaban, shunned from the wizarding community. If Voldemort won, he cringed at the thought, than he wouldn't have to watch Hermione build a life with another, no, she'd be killed, as an example, by Voldemort or another death eater. The color drained from his face at the thought that he might be tasked with that should that future become reality.

Back in the present he jumped at the sound of the infirmary door slamming shut behind the flustered nurse. He jumped up, trying to explain why he was here, watching over Hermione Granger. But she stopped him.

"Look Draco," she was too tired for formalities, "far too much has gone on today. I don't need to know why you're here, I just need to know that you won't hurt her." She looked down at the pale brunette lying under a thin white sheet, "At least not any worse than she already is." Draco nodded, following the nurse's sad gaze.

Without another word she moved towards her office to write the last bit of paperwork. Before entering her office she looked at the visitor's log for Miss. Granger.

12pm – Ginny Weasley (came in with patient), 12:30

1pm – Ron and Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, 4pm

6pm – Ron and Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, 8pm

Draco was smart enough to make it to the infirmary past curfew, and he wouldn't risk their private relationship by signing into the visitor's book. It stung a bit to see the name of the others she loved written there, knowing that he could never spend that amount of time with her, he couldn't share his worry for her with the people on that list. But, if only for a little bit, he would stay by her side while she slept, hoping she'd wake up and show him those beautiful brown eyes still cloudy with sleep.

Truly his worst fear had come true. He didn't know who had done it, but if he ever found out he would…he would do nothing, what could he even do. Hermione had been hurt, hurt badly, and all because of him. She should never have been in the dungeons at that time.

He always feared that their relationship would put her in the crosshairs, not that her friendship with Potter did any better. But he always thought it would be his father, of Bellatrix, or even Voldemort himself that caused her harm. Never did he think something like this would happen. He folded his tall frame into a small, uncomfortable chair beside her bed and simply studied her now bruised features.

Her curly brown locks were pulled away from her face, frizzing against the soft fabric of her pillow. Her dark lashes grazed her cheeks, her brown eyes hidden behind her eyelids. A white bandage covered her forehead, hiding a gash that went from her ear to her temple and another that stretched along her hairline. There were more bandages on her arms, what skin left uncovered, and there wasn't much, was a purple-blue color as the bruises settled under her skin. He couldn't see under the sheet but he still knew that her right leg was in a splint, the nurse attempting to heal her leg completely while she was still unconscious. Broken bones were still painful, even magic had its limits. He was sure that under her clothes more bruises and injuries would be found. Her skin was pale, more so than usual, and each breath she took was done so shakily. She would cringe slightly as slight tremors of pain from her injuries slid through her. Whoever attacked her must have used crucio on her; the tremors and multitude of evenly spread bruises covering nearly every inch of her body were clear markers of the curse.

Draco couldn't look anymore; he dropped his head into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to wake up from this nightmare. But of course that wouldn't work, this wasn't a nightmare, just his worst fears come true in the form of his own, personal hell.

He was sure he was hearing things the first time he heard the soft groan from where Hermione lay. The second time he convinced himself it was just his mind playing tricks. It wasn't till her voice whispered his name that he realized she was awake. His head jolted up, finding Hermione with her head turned towards him and her soft brown eyes barely open.

"Draco?" she gazed at him with confused, half-lidded eye. "What's…where…where am I?" her voice was soft, slowly forming the words with her lips before speaking.

"You're in the infirmary." He stated blatantly, she tried to sit up but his hand on her shoulder stopped him, "Relax. You were attacked." He couldn't seem to shake the cold, stern voice he used to keep the distance between them. Her amber eyes widened in fright, her hands gripping the thin sheets that covered her. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as it began to quiver slightly. He could see her mind moving through every scenario quickly, must faster than anyone would think possible.

"Wha-?" she couldn't get the word completely out of her mouth, a rather harsh tremor ran through her body, the pain visible in her cringing features. She bit harder into her lip, drawing the tiniest bit of blood. Her hands gripped the sheet tightly, her knuckles white. Her eyes squeezed shut and Draco was left unable to do anything but watch pain distort her features and draw a few beads of sweat to her brow.

Unable to stand it any longer he reached a hand out and held hers, tugging it loose from the sheet and curling his long, boney fingers around her slim ones. Her palms were clammy, and her nails bit into his skin as the tremor continued, he felt intense pressure bearing down on the bones of his hand; any more would have broken it. But the tremor passed before that happened. Her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath and her hairline now damp with sweat.

"Slughorn found you unconscious in the dungeons early this morning. You have been out all day long. From what I can tell you have a bad gash on your forehead," he trailed a fingertip across the edge of the bandage, "a few cuts and scrapes, and bruises, and possibly a broken leg." He glanced down at her leg before his eyes moved back to her face. He gently stroked back a damp strand of her hair while he allowed this new information to sink in. Her grip on his hand was no longer painful but still a kept the firm grip. She let out a shaky breath, her eyes on him again, the familiar inquisitive and determined look back in place.

"Who did this?" she desperately wanted to know who attacked her.

"Nobody knows. But I'm sure it was a Slytherin.

"Why?"

"The tremors and bruising are at an extent that is an unmistakable symptom of Cruciatus curses."

"Wha-" he cut her off.

"Slytherins are generally from pure blood families, old ones, and many of us were taught how to cast those spells by older relatives. I don't know any other way someone would be able to cast that spell at this level."

"Do you know who did it?"

"No." I felt immense guilt at how little I really knew about what happened, he'd been in his dorm all last night and this morning studying for a potions test, he'd threatened anyone who dared to disturb him. Though he didn't think he could have acted normal hearing from his friends how Hermione had been attacked. "What were you doing down there, your patrols were supposed to be by the astronomy tower with Weasely?"

"He never showed, I started the patrol and he still never showed but I ran into Jones. She was signed up to patrol the dungeons for another half hour but she wasn't feeling well. I just offered to cover her last half hour and thought maybe we could…" she blushed faintly and looked away quickly, all of the things they'd done together and she still got flustered talking about it. "I… I don't remember anything after that." She was frustrated, usually her mind was her greatest asset, but this time it was working against her.

Meanwhile Draco was having a bit of an internal battle himself. So it was Weasely that should have been with her, it was his fault this happened. He was to blame, or at least he could be blamed. Draco's blood began to boil, rage bubbling just below the surface. Weasely could have stopped this; it was his fault that Hermione, his Hermione, was hurt. His knuckles were white again, but this time it wasn't Hermione squeezing their joined hands.

"Draco? What's wrong?" she looked up at him worried but unable to make out anything from his stoic facial expression, usually she could read him through his eyes but she couldn't see the pools of cool sliver that she loved. He was nonresponsive, forcing Hermione to lift herself up, groaning at the sore stiffness in her arms, shoulders, and back. He snapped out of his focus at the sound of her groan, a hand on her back helping her sit up.

"What are you doing? You need to lie down and rest." He insisted, his frustration forgotten for the moment.

"What were you thinking about right now? What was making you so…angry?" she inquired, her inquisitive eyes a familiar comfort for his troubled mind.

He didn't answer, knowing she'd defend the blithering idiot to the bitter end and not wanting to add any stress to her already troubled mind.

"Nothing, just angry at the…whole…this." He was lost for words for once, gesturing to the space around them he tried to cover up his anger at Weasley with anger at the situation in general.

They sat in silence for a bit, neither one sure what to say given the circumstance. Their hands were still clasped together and his other hand rubbed her back in small, soothing circles, but the room was silent but for the soft sound of their breathing.

"You're quite." Hermione observed.

"Not in a very talkative mood I guess."

"Yes, but usually you still find a way to tease me at least." She tilted her head coyly, trying to lighten the deep, dark mood that had come over him.

"Sorry, I guess I just don't find anything all that amusing right now." His thumb caressed her hand lightly as he stared off into space. Fed up with this behavior Hermione pulled her hand from his and crossed her arms defiantly in front of her chest, blazing eyes pointed at him.

"What is it now?" he questioned, unsure of what he could possibly done to piss her off now, he'd barely spoken.

"I'm not dead." She grabbed his hand and placed it over her heart. "See, still breathing."

"Okay, what does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm alive; there is no need for you to mourn. I'm still here, Draco."

"I'm NOT mourning you Hermione." he looked away, unwilling to admit just how scared he was to lose her. She'd changed him, so much and in such a short time, for the better. He no longer followed blindly, bending to the will of others simply because of their power and stature. He would have never gotten this far without her; he'd still be the git that judged based solely on blood. Well he'd seen Hermione's now, and it looked no different than his.

"Damn it Malfoy!" She hadn't used his last name in a long time, memories of those earlier years stung like freezing water, "For once in your life, please, just show some emotion." Her plead ended on a feeble request; he would have considered it begging if not for the demanding look in her eyes.

He stood there for a while, a scowl forming on his pale face, his Malfoy features contorting to the same cold, hostile scowl that his father sported. Hermione thought he was going to shut her out, to walk away because he didn't like the answer to the question she was asking, the same thing he'd always done.

But he didn't, with resolution in his stormy grey eyes he crashed his lips onto hers, holding her head between his hands carefully, like she as a delicate doll and to handle her to harshly could break her into a thousand people.

This kiss was fuelled by some undistinguishable emotion that Hermione couldn't quite place. It wasn't the hurried, guilty pleasure of their first rushed kisses in dark, abandoned corridors. It wasn't the passionate longing of their more recent kisses when they sneak off during patrols to snog in the halls they were supposed to be patrolling. And it most definitely wasn't the sweet, romantic goodbye kisses they would share at the end of each night together. This wasn't longing or passion or any number of the emotions she'd felt kissing him, and she'd felt more emotions than she dared speak out loud.

His lips were soft but demanding on her, gently coaxing her lips apart so that his tongue could slip between them and explore her mouth. The pads of his thumbs brushing against both sides of her head as his other fingers gingerly tangled in her hair. It seemed as though he was trying to prove something, to himself or to her she couldn't say. Whatever it was he must have done it because after what felt like a lifetime, only a few minutes in reality, he backed his lips off hers, his forehead presses against hers allowing them the breath the same air and stare into each other's eyes. Their breathing was harsh, slight pain radiated form Hermione's ribs from her injuries, but she was focused on Draco at the moment, the movement of his lips signaling that he was about to speak.

"I…I can't lose…you. I can't do it Hermione." He pulled her into an embrace, finishing his speech in hushed whispers that somehow found their way past her bushy hair to reach her ears. "I love you Hermione. I don't know what I'd do if something happened…if you…you." his voice was breathy but he was not crying, he was more serious than she'd ever seen him. She was shocked, she never thought, or even dreamed, she'd hear those words come from him. He never admitted to even liking her, and maybe he didn't, but that didn't matter because he loved her. Shocked and happy tears filled the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill but not quite ready to. She was clinging to him, her hand holding onto his shoulders as she buried her face in his chest. The soft material of the shirt a welcome sensation, though he'd probably complain about the tear stains later on she couldn't help but let those tears fall.

With an even sigh Draco squeezed her tighter and laid his head down on top of her hair, content to just be near her right now as he enjoyed the delicate lavender scented conditioner she used which had somehow managed to cling to her hair. While he preferred her usual scent, a mixture of old parchment and spearmint toothpaste, anything about her would have comforted him now. With one last, deep shuddering breath he closed his eyes.

"I love you too." The faint words, whispered into his shirt were barely audible, but they were heard.


	2. Flashbacks

**(A/N: Okay since so many people decided to follow this story - even though I only got one review - I decided to continue the story. I hope everyone likes it, sorry if it seems a bit rushed - I really felt bad about taking so long)**

**All characters are property of J.K. Rowling, I own nothing**

It is the strong smell of antiseptic, the simple muggle medicine with such a potent stench that wakes the sleeping girl, the lone patient in the hospital wing. Her big brown eyes fluttering open to see Madame Pomfrey capping the familiar brown bottle, the same one her mother kept in the bathroom cabinet for the random cuts and scrapes. The healer gave her a reassuring smile, experienced enough to know that patients were often spooked waking up in unfamiliar surroundings.

"You're wounds are already healing. You'll be here another day or two tops." She didn't leave her spot at the side of Hermione's bed, scribbling something on the clipboard. Madame Pomfrey had the same undistinguishable handwriting as her parents and all muggle doctor's she'd seen growing up, she'd come to the conclusion long ago that all medical professional had atrocious handwriting. "You are very brave Ms. Granger, to be healing so quickly after an attack like yours is remarkable." The nurse put a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder, which was no longer sore to the touch.

Hermione didn't think she was brave. She thought she was stupid. She'd left herself so vulnerable and open for the attack, wandering around the dungeon corridors aimlessly. She'd acted irrationally and she'd paid the price, she was simply grateful that her attacker hadn't taken advantage of her in any other ways. But she nodded along with the nurse, giving her a grateful smile before lying back to rest a bit more.

It wasn't long after that when Harry, Ron, and Ginny came in with a few trays of breakfast. They'd brought tons of food and planned to eat with her before they had to go to classes. All three of them looked troubled. Harry's eyes were downcast and his hair was more unkempt that normal; Hermione knew he was blaming himself, when in all actuality this particular event was completely unrelated to his involvement with Dark wizards. Ron kept running his hand through the slightly too long locks of red hair and he looked greenish every time he even glanced at the trays of food; he hardly ate while he was there. Ginny looked like she hadn't slept at all, the bags under her eyes dark and reminiscent of hers the week before O.W.L.S.

She wanted to voice her observations on their appearance, but she probably looked worse, that thought making her even more self-conscious. She tried to run her fingers through her mess of hair but she couldn't get past a large knot near the top of her head. Frustrated she pulled her hair back, the back of her neck clammy and the small hairs there were damp with sweat.

"How are you doing Hermione?" Harry asked taking the seat by her bed.

"I'm alright; a bit sore, but on the mend. Madame Pomfrey said I had to stay here another day or two." Her three guests nodded along but she still had a request. "Could you guys take note for me and just write down my assignments? Maybe bring them to me if you have a chance so I don't fall behind?"

"Bloody hell, 'Mione, you of all people shouldn't worry about falling behind. You could teach the damn class."

"Ronald, language." She scolded him but he ignored her.

"You should be more worried about resting and getting better, missing a few assignments won't kill you."

Ron didn't seem to get just how important it was for her to get back into her normal routine, so she could put this whole incident behind her. Ginny and Harry could she where this disagreement was heading and refused to let Ron get her riled up after what she'd been through in the last thirty-six hours.

"We'll make sure to get it to you after dinner." Ginny butt in, stopping her brother from making another comment that would only lead to an argument, and putting Hermione's irrational worries at rest.

The trio had to leave, classes would be starting and Hermione insist they be on time. And as the door shut behind them it opened to reveal McGonagall and Dumbledore. They came to stand at the foot of her bed and exchanged formalities. But they quickly got to the point.

They asked her if she remembered anything, and at that moment she didn't, but she promised to think back and try to recover something. The two adults agreed, saying that time and rest would probably help her focus and recall the events that needed clearing up. They promised to return before dinner and left Hermione alone with her thoughts.

Not being one to procrastinate she immediately began trying anything to remember what had happened to her. Closing her eyes she leaned back against the pillows and forced her mind to remember.

_The hallways were deserted, on a Monday night few people had energy left to be out past curfew. Hermione was nearly done checking her section when she crossed Tina Jones, a smart girl from Ravenclaw who Hermione had grown fond of. Tina looked truly awful; her hair was pulled into a messy bun, showing off all of her pale, clammy looking skin. Her eyes were dull, dark circles underneath them, and she coughed or sneezed every few steps. Hermione stopped the girl._

_"__Tina, goodness, you look awful." She patted the girls shoulder._

_"__Yeah, it's okay, just dreading this patrol." She joked, "Slytherin halls too, last thing I need is some over privileged little shit giving me trouble." Hermione like the way the girl was straightforward, calling things out exactly as she saw them. _

_"__Tina, go to be, I'll take your patrol." Hermione offered, stopping the girl from arguing, "I'm wide awake anyway." She smiled to reassure Jones. She was far too sick to argue and relented, allowing Hermione to take her patrol. _

_Hermione continued walking, going down the stairs instead of up them, headed in the direction of the dungeons._

She shook her head a bit, regretting it when she felt the slight twitch of a headache forming behind her temples. Well it was easy to remember that, Jones would be able to back up that part, though she'd be another person blaming herself for Hermione's attack.

Hermione needed to remember more, to place blame on the person who really deserved it, her attacker.

_The dungeons were always a bit spooky; Hermione never understood how Slytherins could be comfortable in such a dark, damp place. There was an ever present sound of dripping water, coupled with the even tap of her footsteps. It was somewhat relaxing, rhythmic and monotonous. Hermione felt no reason to be uneasy or to look behind her, but she should have been on her guard. _

_She didn't hear another set of footsteps, her stalker keeping a far enough distance while also matching her footsteps. In the dark no one could see the sly grin that split the figure's face. She reached the end of the area she was supposed to be patrolling, stopping she thought for a moment. She could go up the staircase in front of her, and simply go to bed, or, she could also see if she couldn't find Draco slinking around the corridors; like her he had a nasty habit of being in the library until obscene hours during the week of midterms. She turned on her heel and walked back down to dark dungeon halls, not even aware of the shadow that hid just behind a pillar as she changed direction._

_The figure sneered, this would be even better; no one would find her in the depths of Slytherin domain until the next morning. With a small flick of the wrist the spell was cast and Hermione was frozen, petrified like she'd been her second year. The only difference here was that she was aware. While she couldn't move, frozen mid-step, she could look around, expressing herself through her eyes. _

_If she could've moved she would have snapped her neck turning to see the source of heavy footstep that came from behind her. She knew fear was written clearly across her face but try as she might she simply couldn't hide the terror that gripped her. _

Hermione sat straight up, her body rushing with adrenaline at the mere memory of her attack, or at least the beginning. It all went black after that. That both frustrated Hermione and scared her. What could have happened to her that caused a blackout? She feared the answer to that but knew if she could just remember a bit more that she'd have a chance to figure this whole thing out.

She closed her eyes, fully intending to try and regain some of her lost memories. But exhaustion took over; the moment her eyes slid closed her mind shut off, but her deep sleep came at a price.

_She knew she was still in the Slytherin corridors, down in the dungeons, the basement of the school. She knew she was on the floor, the cool, damp stones scratching harshly against the backs of her legs and the small span of exposed skin where her shirt rode up her back. She couldn't see far beyond herself, but she knew her attacker was still there, the footsteps ringing out clearly as they stalked around her shivering, aching body. The footsteps were echoing in through the corridor, walking circles around the helplessly paralyzed girl like a vulture finding an easy meal. _

_The only thing that kept Hermione from begging, groveling, for some relief was the knowledge that it would do no good, this twisted person would only get off on her vulnerability and the power they now held over her. So she was silent, as quiet a raggedy breathing and gasps She could never have imagined what the Cruciatus curse felt like when one was under it, she'd researched and read Auror accounts, but those versions didn't come anywhere near what she as feeling now. _

_It felt as if her heart was going to break through her ribcage, or that one beat would be too much and her heart would simply be crushed under the pressure she was feeling. It was beating far too loudly, it echoed in her ears. Her eyes flittered wildly, desperately trying to find the person who attacked her but coming up with nothing but the faint outline of the figure as it stood just deep enough in the shadows to be hidden from her view. _

_She glared at the figure, pain transforming to hatred in her eyes as she unknowingly intimidated her attacker. She worked the lump in her throat, calling on the last ounces of her Gryffindor courage to speak out._

_"__Why are you doing this?" her voice was pained and faint but the anger in her voice was clear. The shadow stepped back a bit, visibly intimidated by the girl who could somehow retain her power while broken and lying on the cold, grimy floor. There was no reply, and Hermione was slowly slipping out of consciousness. Her eyelids fought her will, drooping closed as exhaustion came over her. _

_Before her mind abandoned her she heard one word, it wasn't the ones she was expecting; it wasn't the green flash that haunted her nightmares surrounding Sirius Black's death. No the voice didn't speak the two words, Avada Kedavara, that would have ended her. Instead there was a green flash and a whispered stupefy. And then it was all gone, blurry at first, but blurry darkness was nearly the same as complete darkness. _

Hermione woke with a start, a hand going to her chest, pressed over her heart as she felt the frantic beat reverberating through her chest. That was it, the last piece of her memory. It didn't seem likely that she'd be able to remember much more but that was okay, she really wasn't too eager to remember what being under an unforgivable curse was like, feeling the after effects was enough.

She had something now at least, something that might help find her attacker. Just before the green flash and her black out the figure stepped just too close, making himself just visible enough. It was a boy, not in the same year as her, maybe one or two years below her, but Slytherin, definitely Slytherin. His hair was longer, blond and his skin pale and his body small but slightly athletic looking. He looked eerily familiar, but many of the Slytherin students were related in some way, the majority of them fair skinned with light colored hair.

It wasn't a whole lot to go on; it really wasn't anything at all, just a general description that could describe dozens of Hogwarts student. But somehow it put Hermione just a little more at ease. She was certain if she saw the boy again she would know, but would her dodgy memory be enough. She hadn't done much research into Wizarding law but she knew that it could be just as corrupt as muggle law. Things like this often dragged victims through the mud while the guilty remained clean and often got off with a slap on the wrist. Suddenly Hermione wasn't so sure she wanted to do this.

She'd done all she could to regain her memory, but now she had a harder task in front of her. Could she risk someone like Rita Skeeter dragging her name through the mud, especially with all that was going on right now? It was an added stress she didn't need right now. Hermione closed her eyes once more, as much as she wanted justice, to get that change to throttle the boy who'd attacked her, she couldn't justify it, not right now. Maybe when this was all over, if she, Harry, and Ron were successful in taking down Voldemort and his death eaters, maybe then she'd pursue it, but by then it would be a bit pointless.

All these contradictory thoughts rushing though her skull were giving her a headache. Compromising between her choices she decided she would ask McGonagall if there was a way to keep her name out of it should her attacker be found and punished.

She laid back down, resting her aching head on her pillow, all the while unaware that a certain ginger friend of hers was headed towards her with some very confusing news.

**(A/N: Okay so hopefully everyone liked it, I'm not crazy about the ending of this chapter but I wanted to give you readers something to wonder about for however long it takes me to write the next chapter. Thank you for reading and please review, I would LOVE constructive criticism, plus reviews make me more motivated to write.) **


	3. One Answer, More Problems

**(A/N: Here is a long chapter for you guys, I don't know if you liked the last one since no one reviewed it but... I guess I'll just keep the story going.)** **As always, I own nothing, the characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me :(**

Like promised McGonagall returned to check up on Hermione. The older woman was weary around her favorite student; it pained the elder witch to see the normally strong, defiant girl looking so broken. The color was returning, she was no longer the same pale shade as her bed sheets, and the bags under her eyes were slowly disappearing.

"Ms. Granger," McGonagall started, "you are looking much better."

"Thank you Professor." Hermione tried her best to give her role model a reassuring smile. "I'm feeling much better."

"That's good." McGonagall paused, not really wanting to bring up her real reason for visiting but knowing it had to be taken care of soon if anything was going to get done.

"Have you been able to remember anything from your attack?" she asked, quietly as she resisted the urge to wring her hands, settling for fighting behind her back. Hermione nodded before she began to share with her mentor the details she'd been able to remember.

"I remember I'd offered to cover Jones' last half-hour of patrols, she was just dreadfully sick. I remember that I'd just finished up patrols when my attacker put me in a full-body bind. From there it's a little bit fuzzy. I remember lying there, most likely after the Cruciatus curse had been shot at me, and seeing just a bit of my attacker. He was a Slytherin boy, I believe he might have been a year or two below me but again, it's all a bit hazy. He was blonde too, um, pale skin. Sorry this really isn't a lot of information. It's not even enough for a decent description, I wish I could remember more, I wish I could-" McGonagall stopped her with a raised hand, signaling that the brilliant girl had fallen into her old bad habit of rambling when she was upset or riled. The head of Gryffindor house waited patiently until she saw that Hermione was calm before she spoke.

"Hermione dear, you've done fine. That is a perfectly reasonable amount of detail, more than I would have expected after being under the Cruciatus curse. There is enough for the other faculty and I to begin looking for anyone for one nagging worry.

"Do you think you will find him? Do I who fits that description." She gave the young girl a reassuring smile, placing her wrinkled hand over Hermione's and giving it a firm squeeze. Hermione looked up, feeling a bit better save even have a case to make? What happens now?" Okay maybe it was more than one nagging worry, but once the floodgates opened there was no stopping it.

"Yes I think we will find him, your description will certainly help, and we've found that students are rarely able to keep these things to themselves. Your attacker will brag to someone and before long the gossip will reach the professors. We will find out who attacked you. As for your case, in a matter like this one I would recommend we reprimand him for the use of an Unforgivable Curse; I would make sure that your name would remain out of the report." Hermione nodded along, the logical part of her thrilled at how precise McGonagall would be when orchestrating this whole ordeal.

The two continued talking for some time, going over the facts and all the different people that would have to become involved in the case. They would of course get Jones' testimony along with Professor Slughorn's and from there the Professors would keep a watchful eye out for any students that matched the description, and a keen ear for any of the gossiping among the students. McGonagall left, fully ensuring Hermione that things would be handled immediately and that she and the other professors would do their best to keep her name out of the paperwork.

Hermione was feeling exceedingly better; the only thorn in her side was the one day more she would have to spend in the infirmary. Sure she wasn't one hundred percent, not by any stretch of the mind, but she was going stir crazy and just chomping at the bit knowing that she would have to miss yet another day of classes. Now that McGonagall was gone she had nothing to distract her overactive mind and was slowly going crazy of boredom.

Just as Hermione was mentally listing the pros and cons of ignoring the nurse's rule and heading down to the Great Hall the doors opened slowly and a tall, lanky figure slipped into the room, arms full of books, parchment, quills, and on top a tray literally overflowing with food.

It was Ron Weasely, bringing Hermione her homework for the day and 'some' dinner. He dumped the books onto the floor at the foot of Hermione's bed, leaving the pile of books, quills, and parchment behind as he brought the tray, which was nearly overflowing with all the different types of food Ron had brought them to eat. He'd offered to do this, knowing that Harry had a large paper due in the morning and Ginny was running a Gryffindor Quidditch practice for the chasers tonight. He may have had an ulterior motive to get Hermione alone but Harry and Ginny didn't need to know that.

"Ron, my goodness, just how many people do you think your feeding here?" she asked, knowing that Ron would most likely eat most of the food on the tray by himself. She gave him a smile, happy to have someone there with her; this room would surely drive her mad before morning.

"Well," Ron stood next to her bed, tray in hand, looking a bit skittish, and the red tint to his ears a telltale sign that he was nervous. "I just, I didn't know what you'd want, and so I brought everything." He set the tray down in her lap, standing by her bed awkwardly. Hermione shook her head, whatever was on Ron's mind had him in a state. Shifting she sat up and crossed her legs in front of her before placing the tray back on her lap. She reached forward a bit, patting the bed and motioning for him to sit. He listened to her, though it didn't seem to be a conscious action, more like a reflex from years of trial and error, eventually learning that listening to Hermione was most often the best decision.

"So what did I miss today?" she inquired, not missing the large pile of books and supplies that Ron had brought with him.

"Don't worry about that, you're supposed to be resting anyway. Just eat." His usual bluntness had returned but he softened his statement with a smile. The same smile that had given her butterflies the first five years of their friendship. She'd had a silly little schoolgirl crush on her red headed friend for the longest time. Fourth year had been the climax of that little adventure, when he didn't ask her and then accused her of fraternizing with the enemy, her date Victor Krum. She'd wanted so badly to go with him but she knew he didn't really see her as a girl but as the third to their trio. She'd wanted that night to change it, and maybe it did, but now any of those romantic feeling and childhood fantasies of them dating had disappeared. She'd spend nearly all of fifth year fighting those feelings, knowing she wouldn't be able to handle those unrequited feelings and the war that would soon be raging around them. The end of fifth year only proved her right, that kind of puppy love would only distract her and ultimately put them in more danger. She couldn't risk that.

So she'd forced herself to get over it. In the long run she was sure this was the right choice, she and Ron were not as compatible as her fourteen year old mind had thought, or maybe it was her heart that was in charge back then. They were great as friends but she knew that their arguments would end any relationship in a harsh, friendship-damaging way. She didn't want to lose that friendship, or put Harry and Ginny in the middle like that.

Plus now that she was over Ron she had found herself in an unlikely romantic relationship with Draco Malfoy. She'd never think to even consider him but it had surprised her and now they were… she didn't know what they were, only that she cared for him and he felt the same and that their feelings would be tested by the oncoming war. Draco had alluded to future battle, but was hesitant to tell her anything, claiming that it would put her in the crosshairs. She'd tried to explain to him that she already was there, she was a number one target for death eaters, right up there with Harry and Ron. But he was determined not to tell her, though he'd told her so much already.

Hermione was jolted back to reality when Ron tapped her on the shoulder; he'd been talking to her while she'd just been staring off into the distance.

"Wha- Oh Ron I'm sorry, I-"

"It's okay." He stopped her with a raised hand and an easy smile. "I'm sure you've got too much on your mind to listen to me ramble on about my problems." Hermione eyed him, instantly curious as to what she'd missed when she wasn't listening.

"Problem? Ron tell me, please let me help." It was rare that Ron willingly admit to needing help and even rarer for him to come to Hermione for help with something that wasn't schoolwork. Ron blushed a bit at her eagerness, uncomfortable with all of her focus being on him and only him.

"I…uh… well." He stuttered trying, unsuccessfully, to start. "Okay, there is this girl." He finally started, feeling dumb but having no other way to start.

"Anyway she's bloody brilliant, and I'm well, I'm not, and I really do fancy her, but I don't know how to go about telling her. She wouldn't want me anyway but I'd like to give it a go, otherwise I'll never really know, you know." He looked really nervous and unsure now, his ears were really red and he kept running a hand through his hair.

"Oh Ron, I'm sure she'd like you, you really don't give yourself enough credit. You're kind, fiercely loyal, and brave –though sometimes too brave for your own good -, you're fun. Ron I'm sure whoever this girl is she'd jump at the chance to go out with you, even if it's just for a Hogsmeade weekend. You should definitely tell her." She really hated when Ron doubted himself; no he wasn't Harry, but she thought that was a good thing. While she didn't see Ron in a romantic way anymore she couldn't ignore the obvious traits that would make him a good boyfriend, the same traits that made him a good friend. Ron was looking at little bit more sure of himself.

"Can I ask who it is?" Hermione's curiosity was nagging at her. She should have listened to her mother's warning 'curiosity killed the cat' but being brilliant as she was she instead followed the second part of the saying 'but satisfaction brought it back'. Ron was visibly uncomfortable once more, shifting and fidgeting with his hands.

"I…well…um."

"You don't have to, I don't mean to pry."

"No, I mean, it's…" he took a deep breath, determination clear on his face, "It's you, Hermione."

Hermione struggled to keep her jaw from opening in a shocked; never did she expect him to say that. She wanted to speak, her mouth must have looked like a fish, opening and closing as words started to form but inevitably got stuck in her throat. Ron stared back at her, seemingly unaware of the turmoil that was going on in her mind.

This couldn't be happening, she must still be asleep. All those years she'd spend just hoping he'd say just those words, and now, when she was finally over him, he choose to make a move. She couldn't believe it. Ron was starting to look worried, noticing her silence.

"Ron I…I don't….I sorry I just don't…I don't see you like that Ron. I'm so sorry." She apologized weakly, knowing that there was nothing more she could do. Her pride hated to apologize, knowing that it wasn't her fault that she'd grown out of her feelings for Ron, but feeling horrible all the same. She'd encouraged him to put his pride and ego on the line and now she had to throw it back into his face. She hated herself at that moment, but there was nothing she could do. She waited for Ron to process her words, as he seemed to be just at gob smacked as she had been.

"What! What you mean you don't SEE me like that?!" Ron was angry, visibly, but she knew that was only to cover up his wounded pride, and she tried to let him be angry with her. She tried to explain.

"Ron, I'm so sorry. If I'd known you were talking about me I never would have gotten your hopes up like that. I just…you're my best friend Ron, you and Harry are like the brothers to me." She tried to apologize, cringing inwardly at just how lame this explanation sounded to her ears.

"But you JUST said all those things about how 'any girl would jump at the chance', or was that just for my benefit?" he was getting angrier as each second passed.

"No Ron. It was the truth. You are all those things and so much more, any girl WOULD be lucky to have you but right now, I don't feel that way, not anymore." She noticed her mistake. That last little bit of information, the 'not anymore' part, and Ron noticed it too.

"What do you mean 'not anymore'!?" his ears were red, as was his face, and his hands were clenched, his knuckles white as the fists sat in his lap.

"Ron, I'm so sorry, but if you had said these words two years ago, hell even last year, I would have agreed before you'd finished speaking. I had a huge crush on you for the longest time. But I…I don't know exactly, but I guess I just grew out of those feelings. After the Yule ball and all the drama that went on with that I just realized that we fight, and we fight badly. We'd never last in a relationship. We are too different anyway. And it's more than that; I meant it when I said all those things about you, and when I said you are my best friend. Those things are all true, and I don't want to risk losing the relationship we have; especially not in the midst of the war that is brewing around us." She was trying really hard not to get angry with Ron but he was making it difficult. His tone made her skin crawl as it reeked with blame, blaming her for this. His next words would be the breaking point in her patience with him.

"You just can't let that Yule Ball thing go can you?! So I was dumb, so I didn't ask you. I thought we forgave each other."

"I did forgive you Ronald. But the facts are that back then you didn't see me as a girl, anyone can attest to that, and you can say you didn't think or you were a dumb person then, but that's just it, you didn't think and I was tired of you never noticing me."

"But if you had feelings why didn't YOU say something!?"

"Because you and I barely got through a day without fighting, because you and Harry were my only real friends for so long, and if I scared you off I'd be alone again, because it hurts when we fight like this and I can't imagine what our fights would turn to if our relationship turned to something more." She was panting, the faint pain in her chest and ribs returning as she struggled to regain the breath she'd lost.

"But you don't get to just decide what the best thing is for me. You don't have that right." He pointed a finger at her.

"But I do have the right to grow up, to change my mind, and to do what makes ME happy. I never thought you like me and that was hard to swallow, but it was either sit there and suffer as your ego grew and you flittered about from girl to girl or get over you."

Ron opened his mouth to speak again, looking as if steam would soon billow out of his ears. But Madame Pomfrey threw open the doors and silenced him.

"Mr. Weasley," she chided, "you will not come here and harass my patients. Whatever issue you two seem to be having can be taken care once, and only once, Ms. Granger is back to one hundred percent. And seeing as this argument had already begun taking a toll on her energy, I suggest you leave and return to your common room for the night." Ron couldn't speak, he wanted to tell the older witch to shove off, but when he looked back at Hermione he saw what the nurse saw. Her face was flushed much like his, but her expression was pained, each breath a bit gaspy as she clutched one arm to her ribcage. He nodded and left, obediently.

Hermione was still fuming as the nurse redressed her wounds and checked to makes sure she had not over exerted herself in any way. With that the nurse walked to her office, leaving Hermione alone to process the events of the afternoon. Ron would be fuming for a few days; any Harry would keep his distance out of loyalty to Ron. Everything she'd feared was going to happen was a very real possibility right now.

She pushed those thoughts aside, levitating the stack of books and getting a start on her assignments. She had papers for each class, most of them two to three pages in required length. She worked until her fingers were stiff and sore, and her back situated oddly. Madame Pomfrey had turned in for the night but Hermione was determined to stay up. After the exhausting day she'd had all she wanted was to see Draco.

He'd never been a real comforting type but talking things out with him made her feel better, and he seemed to feel better after talking to her about the things that were bothering him, well what he could tell her anyway. In the beginning that was all they did, talk about their problems and worries. Now they were slowly learning how to talk to each other, to comfort the other; it was slow, Draco couldn't undo an entire upbringing of prejudices in one night and she understood that. But she felt that it was getting better, and if last night's confession was anything, it was proof that he cared for her just as much as she did for him; a scary realization that stood in the forefront of her mind as she lost the war with her eyelids and eventually subsumed to sleep.

**(A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, please leave me a review and let me know what you think. Please there are nearly five hundred of you reading and no one leaves me anything :( Thank you for reading)**


	4. His Confession

**(A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in so long. It was hard to write this and it took time, I hope you enjoy it.)**

There were a few moments of dead silence, the soft sounds of Hermione's breathing barely audible. Once he was sure she was asleep Draco stepped out from behind the wall he'd been using to hide from Hermione until she fell asleep. He'd been there since after dinner, being forced to watch the awful display that was the weasel's broken ego. He knew, especially now, that he wouldn't be able to help her; not with everything rumbling around in his head. He was in no state to comfort her after her idiotic friend's harsh words.

He'd convinced himself, while he hid in waiting, that it would be better for both of them if she got some sleep. It may have been selfish on his part but he was certain her stress levels were high enough without him and his inability to be comforting. He was determined to find out who attacked her, he was desperate for answers, and now, he was enraged by Weasels actions. Hermione was his. He mentally slapped himself, knowing that Hermione would like being thought of as property. But that didn't make him any less annoyed watching the clumsy red head make a move on his girlfriend. But he had more important issues to worry about; Hermione had done enough to crush the weasel's idiotic crush. Though he could have gone his entire life not knowing that she'd harbored a crush on him for as long as she had.

Draco had spent the entire day listening to the gossip of the school, especially gossip in the Slytherin common room. But whoever had done it was keeping their lips sealed, at least for now. It was difficult to think of anyone, besides himself, that would have motive to attack her. Sure there were plenty of purebloods that wanted Potter and his friends but most of them would only talk about it, very few would act on those threats. There were also those who simply hated their muggle born classmates, especially Hermione Granger as she beat every single one of them in classes. These people would be more inclined to attack Granger but again, Slytherins were not action type people, they left that to the Gryffindors, they'd find some sneaky way to meet their ends.

Draco was well aware that he would be the most likely suspect; rumors that he'd done it were already circling, even though he'd never spoken a word about the attack at all. Soon even the teachers would believe the rumors, and why not? He'd given them every reason to, fighting and harassing Potter, Weasley, and Granger throughout their entire Hogwarts careers.

It might already be too late. He'd been questioned by Dumbledore already. The older wizard that he'd mocked and believed to be weak had pulled him into the office only a few hours earlier. Apparently Hermione had been able to recall bits and pieces of her memory, claiming that her attacker was a blond, Slytherin student. Naturally the teachers, through rumors and past experiences, came to suspect him. He did fit the description, what little she'd been able to give.

It was maddening, having to sit there and listened to the old man talk. While he'd noticed the minute changes in Draco, Dumbledore couldn't help the nagging suspicion that something was going on between Draco and Hermione. He truly didn't think Draco would have done this but the other professors urged him to at least question the boy. And that gave him a chance to speak with him privately. He noticed how the line of questioning regarding Miss. Granger had the boy fidgeting and made a light sweat break out on his forehead. Dumbledore had one question left for the boy.

"Mr. Malfoy, I will tell you that I, personally, believe you are not the one who attacked Miss. Granger. But I can't deny that you seem to be very effected by the entire event." Draco took a breath, relived but still weary of the man's question. "Other teachers will no doubt notice this reaction; they will chalk it up to guilt Draco. So I'm asking you now, what is your relationship with Miss. Granger?"

The question took Draco off guard. Had he really been so obvious, was he really no better than Weasley, was he wearing his heart on his sleeve in the same way? Draco's snide reply stuck in his throat, his head dropping to look at the floor. Draco didn't even know when his throat became clear enough to speak again but suddenly he realized he was spilling everything. How he'd always teased her because he just couldn't understand how a muggle born, someone he'd been taught to believe inferior, could best every single pure blood in every single subject. He admitted to having feelings for her, long before this year, he'd noticed her beauty at the Yule ball but he'd seen her intelligence and character in their first year. Initially he'd mocked her and her character. But as he slowly stepped out of his father's shadow, and began think freely of the prejudices, he'd started to see her, who she really was. He'd seen beyond the brainy bookworm, to the girl that simply yearned for knowledge, beyond the practical member of her trio, to the protectiveness she had for her friends. He'd seen through her shield, he saw how much the mounting war frightened her, how through her fear she worried more about her family and friends than she did for herself.

When he finally admitted how they'd come to their current situation he was breathing heavily, his face unnaturally flushed. She'd followed him, trailing after him in the abandoned first floor girl's room. She'd seen him at his weakest, struggling to come to grips with the task he'd been given. When she'd made herself known he'd yelled, threatened her to try and make her leave, none of it worked. His threats were empty but hers were not. She threatened to go to the teachers if he didn't tell her what was going on; she insisted she could help him.

That was the thing that amazed him the most, how through all the years of suffering through his torment, she would still try to help him. He'd broken down, fallen to the floor as words spilled from his lips much like they were doing now in Dumbledore's office. He'd been careful not to tell her everything, just that he would have to do something terrible before the year was out. That was in September, for five months they would talk, about anything and everything. They had a bond, an unspoken friendship formed between them. And he struggled to admit it to the older wizard, but a romantic bond formed between them in time.

Dumbledore listened intently, letting the boy spill everything he needed to. He could hardly imagine the stress this boy was under, fighting to undo and upbringing that had cut him off from those that could help him. When Draco finished, his chest heaving but his shoulders seeming to have lost the weight of the secrets he'd been keeping. With a hand on the younger wizards shoulder, Dumbledore dismissed him; there were no words the older man could find to help the boy, no words of advice for what he was going through.

Draco's hands were still shaking from that confession.

**(A/N: Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the Draco heavy chapter. Now that school is nearly over I should have time to write and update more frequently - fingers crossed - anyway please review and let me know what you think.)**


	5. APOLOGY to Readers

I am sorry for not updating this story but I have such a writer's block and have no idea where I want to go with it. I really hope I will be able to come back to it at some point but I just want to let you guys know that until I get out of the funk I have with this story it will not be updated. With my job I don't have as much time to write and even less time to spend thinking and trying to figure out what I want to write. If it doesn't flow I don't want to waste time forcing it right now. Thank you for reading and if you stick with this thank you even more.

If you like I have two other stories I'm currently updating and would really appreciate you checking them out if you haven't already.

Thank you


End file.
